Island of Exiles

accident. We all thought His Highness dead. It was his physician, Nakatomi, who discovered that the prince had fallen into a state approximating nirvana. He remained like that for days. We thought it a miracle when he returned to life, and we were, of course, overjoyed, but . . .” He paused, searching for words.

Akitada snapped, “In that case, why did you pursue the murder charge against young Mutobe? And why allow the monk Shunsei to die of grief?”

Okisada buried his face in a sleeve and sobbed.

Taira sighed. “You don’t understand. We had hoped for better treatment from the authorities here. Instead Mutobe and his son began a systematic campaign of persecution against us and

our sole protector, the high constable. Don’t forget that you are in the presence of the rightful emperor. Our lives are dedicated to returning him to the throne.”

“And so you would have let young Mutobe die for a murder which did not happen?”

Taira raised his brows. “Certainly not. Exile is the worst that could happen to him. He is an irritating young man. A period of military service in the north might make a man of him.” Akitada found himself agreeing with that. Having wronged Toshito by misjudging him had worsened his dislike for the young man. There was something about Toshito that made him the perfect target for false accusations. But it would not do to let Taira know of his feelings. He said coldly, “I do not believe you. Many people have spoken of the prince’s fondness for fugu. I expect he knew the effects of the poison very well indeed. But Sakamoto, Shunsei, and young Mutobe all thought the prince had died. You had the presumed corpse taken to Nakatomi, who pronounced death by poison. Then you staged a cremation and afterwards you, my lord, left for your mansion with the prince hidden in your sedan chair. There you and the prince waited until Toshito would be found guilty and Mutobe would be recalled. But two events interrupted your plans. First I arrived on the scene, and then Toshito escaped from prison.”

Taira growled, “Kumo always was too devout. He should have killed you.”

“Yes. I wondered why I was buried alive in his mine. I take it that the thief Genzo brought you my papers?” Taira did not answer.

“Well, as I said, Toshito’s unexpected escape from prison caused another delay, and that is why you are still here now.

With your ship at anchor in the harbor.”

The prince whimpered. Taira was very pale, but his black eyes burned. “Prove it! We have done nothing.”

“The proof is waiting. The governor is about to arrest the ship’s captain and crew. Then we will question Nakatomi. I doubt they will hesitate to speak under the circumstances. And with Kumo dead, your connections to the mainland and ties with the Ezo rebels are broken. Your contacts there will also be arrested. It is pointless to persist, my lord.” There was a long silence. Then Taira said, “I wish to see Kumo’s corpse.”

Akitada dispatched Tora with four of the soldiers to bring the body. Then he turned to Okisada. “You must have been afraid of dying, Highness.”

Okisada sat up a little and dabbed the tears from his face.

“Nonsense,” he muttered. “I was very careful. There is not another person in the world who knows as much about the fish as I do.” Akitada heard the boast and believed it. But he still thought Okisada had been lucky. Or perhaps not. For what would happen next was in the hands of the emperor and his advisors, and it would hardly be as pleasant as Okisada’s exile on Sadoshima.

As for Taira, a second attempt at rebellion meant the death penalty.

More to the point, Okisada had just admitted his guilt, though he would not think of himself as being either culpable or foolish. Taira compressed his lips, but did not chide his master.

“I have been wondering how you smuggled the fugu fish to the dinner,” Akitada went on. “Everyone said that you ate only Toshito’s stew and the dishes served by Sakamoto’s servants.”

“I have been in the habit of preparing my own fugu for years. It has certain properties which ease pain and produce a pleasant sense of well-being. That evening I brought a small amount of the so-called poison with me in my sleeve. Nobody noticed my adding it to the stew.”

Heavy steps sounded in the hall beyond the screen, then a dull thump. After a moment Tora appeared and asked, “Where do you want him?”

Before Akitada could answer there was a shout, and then a slight figure in fluttering white robes slipped past Tora. Ribata.

A few steps into the dim room she stopped uncertainly. Her eyes found Okisada. She cried, “Cousin! It is true. You are alive. A miracle! Oh, praise the Buddha!” She went to him, knelt, bowed deeply, and then raised her shining face, taking his hands in hers. “Oh, my dear. How happy I am to find you alive after all! I was lonely for you, my almost-brother.” Ribata’s being another member of the imperial family was no complete surprise to Akitada. After all, Kumo’s grandmother, the senile Lady Saisho, had addressed her as Naka no Kimi, Princess. But if anything, Ribata’s imperial blood made her presence on this island of exiles an even greater mystery.

Okisada leaned forward to embrace Ribata. “Dearest cousin.

It is not a happy occasion, I am afraid. Is it true that Kumo is dead?”

Ribata’s face lost some of its joy. “Yes. His body is outside.

The soldiers said you wished to pay your last respects.” With her help, Okisada struggled to his feet. Together they walked to the front of the hall, followed by Akitada, Taira, and Tora.

Kumo had been dropped carelessly on the wooden planks, one arm flung over his face and a leg bent awkwardly at the knee. Ribata knelt and gently rearranged the body. Dark blood disfigured his brilliant armor, but he was handsome in death.

Okisada made a face, then bent to peer at him. When he straightened, he said, “A pity. He was a great man. And he could have been an even greater one under my rule.” Taira also took a

long look and nodded. They stood for a moment in silence.

Then Okisada reached into his fine robe and handed Akitada something before turning to take Taira’s arm. Together they went back to the room they had left.

Akitada looked down at what he had been given and saw that the prince had returned his imperial mandate. It had been done without explanation or apology for the theft. Of course, as the present emperor’s brother and, in his own opinion, the rightful emperor himself, he probably felt that he had a right to the documents. But Okisada’s voluntary surrender of the papers meant that he had accepted defeat. He had allowed Akitada to complete his assignment. He heaved a deep breath and turned to Tora. “Stay with them. They are to see or speak to no one without my permission.”

Ribata still knelt beside Kumo’s corpse. She was praying, her beads moving through her thin fingers with soft clicks. Akitada waited. When she finished and rose, he said, “Forgive me for troubling you, but I gather that you, too, are a member of the imperial family.”

She bowed her head. After a moment, she said, “Only a handful of people know why I am here. I ask that you keep my secret.”

Akitada hesitated. “It may become relevant to the case against your cousin.”

“No. I swear to you, it has nothing to do with poor Okisada’s case. It is my story alone. Nothing but tragedy will come to innocent people if it becomes known in the capital that I am here.”

“Very well. If what you say is true, I promise to keep your secret.”

“Thank you.” She sighed. “I am . . . was the third daughter of Emperor Kazan. He died when I was only eight. Okisada’s mother and mine were sisters, married to different emperors.

My cousin and I grew up together until my marriage to a high court noble was being arranged. But I was sixteen and in love with a low-ranking officer of the guards. We were found out, and he was sent here into exile. I followed him, disguised as a nun.” She fell silent, as if that explained all.

Perhaps it did, but Akitada was not content. After a moment’s silence, he said, “You must both have loved very deeply to give up so much. And Toshito?”

Now she smiled. “How very perceptive of you, my lord. I suppose you saw the resemblance?”

“Yes. And your . . . husband?”

The sadness returned. “There was no future for us. They would have killed him if I had become his wife. After my son’s birth, I shaved my head and took the nun’s habit for good.

Toshito was formally adopted by Mutobe.” So Mutobe had been the lover? It explained his permanent